Valar Morghulis
by Valar dogaeris
Summary: A true hero playing the game, the Game of Thrones and when you play the game, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Varamyr Sixskins was a lord of sorts. He lived alone in a hall of moss and mud and hewn logs that had once been Haggon's, attended by his beasts. A dozen villages did him homage in bread and salt and cider, offering him fruit from their orchards and vegetables from their gardens. His meat he got himself. Whenever he desired a woman he sent his shadowcat to stalk her, and whatever girl he'd cast his eye upon would follow meekly to his bed. Some came weeping, aye, but still they came. Varamyr gave them his seed, took a hank of their hair to remember them by, and sent them back.

From time to time, some village hero would come with spear in hand to slay the beastling and save a sister or a lover or a daughter. Those he killed, but he never harmed the women. Some he even blessed with children. Runts. Small, puny things, and not one with the gift. But he was eager today, he heard a fanciful tales of boy Wizard from the village. If there really was one with the true gift, even if it was not one his bastards then this day was really blessed by gods, old and new. Varamyr Sixskins would know the truth of that soon enough.

The power Varamyr wielded was fraction of what a true skinchanger can summon. That was why it was important to be cautions. For all he knew this boy could be trained and he did not want to start his second life so soon.

Haggon had trained him well but his teacher was a moral fool and feared gods above all. What were the gods, but flights of fancy of normal people who didn't understand the supernatural. I will test him first, if he is truly gifted then I will tame him, raise him, teach him and when time is right I will wear his skin, Varamyr thought, fantasizing about the marvelous power he could wield in a Wizards body. It will be hardest skinchanging he had ever done, men were always most willful of souls and a young men most of them. But trust was the only way to the soul and he needed the boy to trust him.

Shadowcat trotted quietly around the village and entered it cautiously. The streets were empty, except for a small wolf that darted away as they came near. The huts were new and strong. Varamyr followed the shdowcat, his shadowcat through the village until they came to a hut which didn't have a fleck of snow on its roof. Oh how curious. The shadowcat stopped suddenly, rolling its eyes nervously.

Going in another skinchangers territory was always a big risk, though they had a government of sorts, skinchangers were paranoid sort. You don't know when a giant werewolf is going to rip you apart. His shadowcat refused to go near the snowless hut. He had half the mind to slip in its skin and scout first but leaving his body defenseless this near a skinchangers home was foolishness of enormous magnitude.

As he neared the door, Varamyr could feel the heat warming his body. Varamyr's thoughts were still whirling when the door opened. A tall raven-haired youth stood in the door. He was holding a wooden stick in one hand and a short golden sword with the other. And then he spoke, "Who are you skinchanger and what do you want from me?"

A/N: Please forgive the awful grammar.


	2. Last of the lost race

Disclaimer: Nobody owns anything in this material world. +Standard disclaimer.

_Day One_

_He stared, puzzled, but the more he tried to make sense of it, the more confused he became. He blinked and shook his head, thinking that it must be some illusion. Yet when he opened his eyes, the sea was still there. Indeed, the blue waters stretched to horizon before him. Despite living on island his whole life he never had seen sea before. The scene was majestic and frightening, for he didn't have faintest idea how he got here._

Part One

Chapter One

Last of the lost race

"I come in peace"

Bugger this, he thought, maybe he was little too hasty. He should have gathered more information. This was going to be a hellishly uncomfortable night. At least it's warm. Varamyr sixskins was not a craven. Once, when he was ten, Haggon had taken him to a gathering of such. The skinchangers were the most numerous in that company, the wolf-brothers, but the boy had found the others stranger and more fascinating. Borroq looked so much like his boar that all he lacked was tusks, Orell had his eagle, Briar her shadowcat (the moment he saw them, Lump wanted a shadowcat of his own), the goat woman Grisella …

None of them had been as strong as Varamyr Sixskins, though, not even Haggon, tall and grim with his hands as hard as stone. The hunter died weeping after Varamyr took Greyskin from him, driving him out to claim the beast for his own. No second life for you, old man. Varamyr Threeskins, he'd called himself back then. Greyskin made four, though the old wolf was frail and almost toothless and soon followed Haggon into death.

Varamyr could take any beast he wanted, bend them to his will, and make their flesh his own. Dog or wolf, bear or badger … but this boy was different. A warg can always tell other by feel. I am not strong enough to take this boy on, not if they battled as wargs and Varamyr was not as young as he used to be. At his prime he could fight all day and fuck all night. Those days were long gone and so was his plan for this boy. Now if the little bastard is as naïve as I think, I will escape this night alive.

"No, you don't have peace in your mind. Tell me truthfully why you are here Varamyr Sixskins, and if I like your answer I will not cut you into pieces".

Not naïve then and well informed too. Situation was as dire as it gets. Trapped with powerful foe without any ally. Wits it is then, he concluded.

"I heard about a warg who can heal anything for a price. Is it true that once you regrew a man's hand and you can heal the cursed wounds? If so, I need your assistance. I cannot see with my left eye. Perhaps you can help me. I will…"

"Stop. Only thing injured about you is your soul and I don't heal souls"

"I told you to speak truthfully and yet you refuse me. Do you think I cannot feel your wolves patrolling outside, waiting for a signal. Or your shadowcat hiding behind the tree. I gave you chance to come clean. I know what kind of beast you are. Villagers told me about you."

Boy lifted his gleaming sword and started towards him.

"Wait!" he thought frantically."I can teach you skinchanging. You must have dreams in which you are an animal"

Boy's eyes widened slightly and that enough for him.

"Why would I want to learn that?"

Not a skinchanger yet then. There was hope yet. Boy had enormous potential. A real wizard! He had deduced that much. Though how a wizard child ended up north of wall must be story for songs. Wizard of these days were measly spellcasters or seers or illusionalists or wargs like himself. Haggon had told him of wizards and how they were prominent race two thousand year ago. Nobody knew what led to their fall. Scholars say it was infighting that destroyed them and other claimed that wizards grew so arrogant in their power and superiority that they angered the gods and lost their Magic. Whatever the reasons, there were no true wizards left. Boy was last of his kind or maybe first of his kind.

"Why not? You can be any anyone you wish. Only one man in a thousand is born a skinchanger."

"I accept your bargain _teacher, _a spared life for your knowledge. Please come in._"_

A short, black wolf sat by the door. It was chewing on big bone. Varamyr was suddenly reminded of One Eye, his oldest and best wolf. The hut was warm and well lit, with a hearth and a writing desk— equipped with quills and ink. The floor was covered with a plush rug.

"What is your name boy?"

"My name is Harry, Harry Potter and don't ever call me boy."

A/N: Forgive my awful grammar skills. All reviews are welcome. All the suggestions and ideas are most welcome. As most of info is yet to come and my writing is flexible all input will be helpful. Chapter are small I know but presently only one POV is available. Harry may seem little OC but it will be clear later on. Ratings may go up in future.


	3. Teacher

Disclaimer: Claiming to own an idea is as idiotic as claiming to own a person, for they are their own beings. +Standard disclaimer (I don't own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones. They belong to some very rich people).

_Day Nine_

_Inside the city walls, they slipped past guildhalls, markets, and bathhouses. Fountains splashed and sang in the centers of wide squares, where men sat at stone tables, moving cyvasse pieces and sipping wine from glass flutes as slaves lit ornate lanterns to hold the dark at bay. Palms and cedars grew along the cobbled road, and monuments stood at every junction. Many of the statues lacked heads, Harry noted, yet even headless they still managed to look imposing in the purple dusk. _

_As the warhorse plodded south along the river, the shops grew smaller and meaner, the trees along the street became a row of stumps. Cobblestones gave way to devilgrass beneath their horse's hooves, then to soft wet mud the color of a baby's nightsoil. The little bridges that spanned the small streams that fed the Rhoyne creaked alarmingly beneath their weight. Where a fort had once overlooked the river now stood a broken gate, gaping open like an old man's toothless mouth. Goats could be glimpsed peering over the parapets._

_And In this city, Harry was taken as slave for first time. Fair and handsome, he didn't last for a day as free person._

Part One

Chapter Two

Teacher

He said thoughtfully, "Harry -Harry. I don't recall the name anywhere round these parts."

"No it's not from around here. You can sleep on floor by the door."

"I am not sleeping on floor"

Boy ignored him easily.

"Sleep peacefully skinchanger, you are safe in here."

That night he had dreamt of Haggon. He was dying again, only this time his eyes were not pleading him for help. They were accusing him of betrayal. He woke with a start; something was chewing on his legs. It was boy's black wolf. Bloody thing.

"You can break your fast teacher. Black caught game"

"Who is Black?"

Boy just looked at small wolf.

"How imaginative"

"Can I summon my animals?"

"If you can, summon them"

He tried to reach out to his shadowcat but could not find her. Panicking slightly he tried to reach for one Eye.

"What did you do to my animals you bastard!?"

When you slip under someone's skin you make a special bond with them. Varamyr never loved anyone his whole life but his animals loved him and that was enough for him but he will not forgive anyone who took his animals away.

"What any sensible man would have done"

Rage overwhelmed varamyr. This baby faced green boy killed his pack. He will kill this boy if it is last thing he ever did. He tried sleeping inside black. If he was under wolfs skin boy wound hesitate to strike. And he will tear bastard's throat before he could reach for the sword. But once he was inside he was the one trapped there and wolf was in charge_. Fucking is was not an ordinary animal, it has more will than a spearwife_. Animal with this will never submitted to any human. Boy must have gotten his hand on dragon taming magic. Dragons have unimaginable bloodlust and strongest of will, but with magic Targaryens tamed dragons. Magic made Ordinary peasants into Mighty Kings of Seven Kingdoms. Magic also made impossible for him to control the black wolf. Abandoning it he turned to boy but it was too late. With a gold flash he was a limb less.

"You promised a spared life!"

"Don't worry you will not die. I need you. But remember, if you try to harm me or Black, I will cut of all your limbs. I need you for your knowledge, not for fighting."

"Now be a good teacher and hold your stump forward"

Cut was clean. Valyrian steel, he mused. What days have befallen me, defeated by a boy in single blow. Boy gave him foul tasting liquid to drink. It stopped the gushing blood but pain was so intense that all Varamyr could manage was not start bawling like a babe.

Wrapping up the stump his captor spoke, "I am going out. Don't try to leave". Boy was out of the hut before he could say anything. Arrogant bastard.

He was tempted to leave but promise of pain in Black's eyes stopped him. Both boy and his wolf are insane, Varamyr decided. Instead deciding to explore the hut, he suddenly realized that he was not feeling any cold despite sleeping on ground all night. Wizard boy has done good spellwork on this hut if it can remain warm in snowstorm. _Only think that cannot be frozen by snowstorm is a dragon and I didn't see any dragon nearby. I should have joined Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall. With other wargs. My death would have been good and quick. _

Boy didn't return for two days. Fire burned undisturbed in fireplace and Black never left the doorstep. He explored the entire hut but could not find anything other than some apples and a skinned elk hanging at back. Mechanical nature of all the surrounding was driving him crazy. Despite being in most comfortable place he had ever lived, he was on edge. Just when he was ready to try popping the window the boy returned. With him he bought a branch of white wood.

"I hope you didn't give Black any problems in my absence"

"Let me fulfill my end of agreement"

"Keen to get out of here, yes? Fortunately for you I have free time. Until I learn skinchanging, I am all yours or you are all mine."

"Let's not waste time then. Do you know what a warg is?"

"Assume I don't know."

"Well wargs or skinchangers or beastlings are people with power to enter the minds of animals and live like them, all their senses become yours and you control their body."

"Seem simple enough."

"No. it is not simple. You must not make light of it. Skinchanging is complex art and can be incredibly dangerous."

Teaching the boy was surprisingly easy. Though not bright and devoid of any respect, he was natural skinchanger and he always asked the right questions.

"So if I am in Black's skin and I want to go in different animal, can I do that?"

"No. You have to return to tour human body first. If you try to do that your connection with your main body might be severed and you are forever trapped in an animal."

Boy entered black's skin on first try and in two days could control of a wild boar with minimal effort. While not opposed to, his student was reluctant to try to change into Human.

"Don't worry, no harm comes to you or your skins mind if you do this right."

"Will I see memories of that person?"

"Did you see memories of animals you tried?" "No, but skinchanging in an animal affects you. Cats may make you cruel and birds can make you more independent. There are stories that Targaryens could skinchange into their dragons and that's what made that family so bloodthirsty. "

"So I should avoid dragons"

"If you find a real dragon alive, best course of action is to find nearest port and leave that island"

"Dragons don't frighten me, I know dragons."

"Dragons have been gone for a long time, you could not have seen one."

"Oh I have seen dragons but that does not concern you. You said that that skinchanging into animal changes both of us, so will changing into other human affect my mind?"

"I am not expert on human skinchanging but as I see it, when you change into an animal, you merge your mind with its own small, less capable mind and you gain full control of it. Changing into human is far more difficult because humans are more intelligent and willful than animals. So if you want to use skin of a human you have to gain full domination over their mind. Once that is achieved you don't have to worry about effect on your mind. But you can unintentionally manipulate the subjects mind. They never are same after that. Losing all the control of your body is not a good experience."

"Have you tried it?"

"No"

"Why not? you can live forever, changing skins when current becomes unusable."

"I think it's not worth the effort. Animals have more strong senses; they are more alive than humans. You can't live forever. A skinchanger can die infinite times as he always experiences death if animal dies when he is controlling it but he only lives twice because you can only skinchange out of your original body. You can't skinchange from your second body. As your main body dies so does your skinchanging."

"So skinchanging is physical power"

"Maybe, I never thought about it like that."

They say that if you spend enough time with someone, you learn to live with that person. Even if that person is someone who cut of your hand and killed all your animals. He would never like Harry but he came to respect him. Boy never turned down a patient and never charged free people who came for his help. He was most selfless person Varamyr had seen. Many wildlings came to boy for healing and boy almost never disappointed. Patents were best test subjects for skinchanging and boy could instantly tell ailment. Days went by and those were most relaxed days of Varamyrs life. Like all good things it came to stop abruptly.

"I am leaving today", boy spoke packing a bag.

"What?"

"You have fulfilled your end of deal. You are free to go. I no longer require your services. "

"Where will you go?"

"South."

"South of wall?"

"Yes"

"You know what Mance is planning. It is dangerous to go near wall, even for you."

"Not if I go with the king."

"You intent to take part in the invasion."

"Mance invited me. It will be less trouble if I go with him. He is inviting people. I intend to gain his trust."

"Why do you need him, I know you can cross wall by yourself."

"I need him because he is only the player in this game I can reach at this moment."

"What game?"

Harry Potter smiled. "Why, the only game there is, _The Game of Thrones_."

A/N: Keep reading people, this is only start. Best is yet to come. A reminder- Ratings may go up as story progresses. Violent deaths, tortures and nudity/sex are essential parts of GOT.


	4. Lord Snow

A/N: I have revised last chapter. If anyone want to go back, there is some new content. As some readers take pairings very seriously, so I have to say only this - We are in a GOT crossover and _anythin_g can happen and nothing is as important as the Game (Nothing weird will happen, I promise you).

_Day Sixty five_

_For two or three minutes he stood looking, while his companion watched him, and then he began to walk ahead softly. His eyes seemed to be taking in everything—a line of stony ridges rose sudden from the sea, their steep slopes covered with soldier pines and black spruce. But dead ahead the sea had broken through, and there above the open water the Titan towered, with his eyes blazing and his long green hair blowing in the wind. His legs bestrode the gap, one foot planted on each mountain, his shoulders looming tall above the jagged crests. His legs were carved of solid stone, the same black granite as the sea monts on which he stood, though around his hips he wore an armored skirt of greenish bronze. His breastplate was bronze as well, and his head in his crested halfhelm. His blowing hair was made of hempen ropes dyed green, and huge fires burned in the caves that were his eyes. One hand rested atop the ridge to his left, bronze fingers coiled about a knob of stone; the other thrust up into the air, clasping the hilt of a broken sword. _

_"I never thought I'd see the Titan," he said at last, in a whisper._

_"Did you know about it?" _

"_Of course, Braavos isn't a secret city anymore."_

Chapter 3

Lord Snow

POV

The-King-beyond-the-Wall

"I want you to scout for me. Nobody can know we are coming. You know what is at stake Harry. This people have trusted me and left their home to march the lands they don't understand."

"By myself?"

"No. You can select anyone, no more than five"

"I want Tormund and Harma."

"No. I lost sixskin because of you. I don't have many experienced fighters, if you want, you can take Rattleshirt from the Skirling Pass."

Hopefully wizard will win half the battle by himself. And if gods are good and just he will reach beyond wall.

"I will follow Milkwater and take Shadow tower and if Halfhand is still there we will lose element of surprise. So it's your responsibility to intercept any communication between Shadow tower and the Wall. It maybe Ranger or a bird you have to take care of it."

"That I can do but Lord Bones is little too undisciplined for this type of work. A single mistake and all of south will be on wall to welcome you."

"Do what you have to Harry. I don't trust anyone else for subtle work like this. We are true free people; I can't make everyone obey my commands blindly. They made me king and they can as easily make someone else my successor. "

"Take care of Queen Mance, and tell Vance that I will miss her."

"She will skin you alive if you leave without telling her."

"Goodbye Mance."

"But Vance . . ."

_Vanished again. I should have called Vance before calling him. Now I will have to restrain Vance from riding after him._ _Sometimes it was not worth being king if you have to solve lover's quarrels._

POV

**Bastard of Winterfell**

"Get him up."

Rough hands dragged him to his feet. Jon did not resist.

"Do you have a name?"

Harry answered for him. "His name is Jon Snow. He is Eddard Stark's bastard, of Winterfell."

Ragwyle laughed. "Who would have thought it? Qhorin Halfhand slain by some lordling's byblow."

"Gut him." That was Rattleshirt, still on horse. The eagle flew to him and perched atop his bony helm, screeching.

"He yielded," Ygritte reminded them.

"Aye, and slew his brother," said a short homely man in a rust-eaten iron halfhelm. Rattleshirt rode closer, bones clattering. "The wolf did his work for him. It was foully done. The Halfhand's death was mine."

"We all saw how eager you were to take it," mocked Ragwyle.

"He is a warg," said the Lord of Bones, "and a crow. I like him not."

"Shut up Lord Bones," Wizard commanded, "I'm tired of your prattling."

Behind the eyeholes of his yellowed skull Rattleshirt's stare was malignant, but he yielded grudgingly.

"We will march directly to wall. Anyone who wishes to leave may do so as this will be a most dangerous mission. Mance asked me to climb wall for our people and make a way. As this mission demands discretion I want my orders followed. If anyone have problem with this they may return to Mance." Last part was clearly meant for Rattleshirt.

_A leader in free people_, thought Jon. They burned Qhorin Halfhand where he'd fallen, on a fire made of pine wood, brush, and broken branches. Some of the wood was still green, and it burned slow and smoky, sending a black plume up into the bright hard blue of the sky.

"Are you really a Wizard?" asked Jon across the flickering fire.

"Who told you I was a Wizard?"

"Ygritte told me you can conjure fire from nothing"

"And you trust everything a spearwife tells you."

"I never said I trusted her."

"You should trust her, I let you live cause of her"

"She repaid the debt of life."

"Do you really think that is the reason?" amused wizard asked.

"Yes, I spared her life when she yielded to me."

"Then you know nothing Lord Snow."

Many people told Jon those words but nobody explained themselves to him. He didn't expect aloof wizard to explain himself. Free people seem to like and fear him equally. _Wizard also has a wolf. He can't be all bad_. Jon decided. Wizards wolf was opposite of his Ghost though, small and black, almost like a dog. Ghost seem to fear it though, he would not go near it and whenever it would try to go near Ghost just seem to shrink in himself.

"Is your wolf a direwolf?"

"No. Black is an ordinary wolf. I found him in haunted forest."

"You are not from north, are you?"

"You ask too many questions Snow"

"Your skin is too much tan and you don't speak like free folk." Jon persisted "Who taught you magic? What else you can do?"

For Jon wizard was a big puzzle. He was sure that wizard was from south, far south. _So what was he doing here instead of those free cities where mysteries priests and magicians with strange power lived? Who would choose north over south_? Jon was particularly interested in knowing what else this wizard can do. He knew Mance Rayder was searching for something in Mountains, maybe he was searching for lost wizards and found one or maybe some magic item to win the war.

Every night when they made camp, Ygritte threw her sleeping skins down beside his own, no matter if he was near the fire or well away from it. Once he woke to find her nestled against him, her arm across his chest. He lay listening to her breathe for a long time, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. Rangers often shared skins for warmth, but warmth was not all Ygritte wanted, he suspected. After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor's sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword.

Even then, Ygritte persisted. The day before last, Jon had made the mistake of wishing he had hot water for a bath. "Cold is better," she had said at once, "if you've got someone to warm you up after. The river's only part ice yet, goes on."

Jon laughed. "You'd freeze me to death."

"Are all crows afraid of goose prickles? A little ice won't kill you. I'll jump in with you to prove it so."

"And ride the rest of the day with wet clothes frozen to our skins?" he objected.

"Jon Snow, you know nothing. You don't go in with clothes."

"I don't go in at all," he said firmly, just before he heard Harry calling for him (he hadn't, but never mind).

The wildlings think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well.

Ygritte disliked Harry though. According to her he was an evil Warlock. Jon didn't ask Wizard if he was really evil, he didn't think it will go as well as asking him about being Wizard. Harry seemed to tolerate him good enough, but he was a wildling leader and Jon didn't want to die before reaching the Wall. He still had a purpose to fulfill. I will carry the word back to the Wall. The wildlings had taken him for an oathbreaker, but in his heart he was still a man of the Night's Watch, doing the last duty that Qhorin Halfhand had laid on him. _Before I killed him. _He still remembered the oath_. 'Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.'_

_A/N: Ratings may go up in future. _Apparently its standard practice to beg for reviews. Despite being a prideful human being, I shall beg for your feedback. It's simple really_No feedback-No improvement_. So please oh mighty readers, grace me with your time and show me the errors of my ways, for I am a fool and you are the wise.


	5. Him of Many Faces

**Day Ninety-nine **

_As the Titan roared to herald the coming of the sun, the sound boomed across the lagoon, faint with distance but still loud enough to wake him. He remembered the only person who truly helped him. Hundreds of gods were worshiped in Braavos, but there was only one god who answered his prayers, Him of Many Faces._

Chapter 4

**Him of Many Faces**

**POV**

**Jon Snow**

When they made camp near some caves, Jon almost collapsed from fatigue. Wizard was a hard taskmaster and their company was riding hard for best part of the day in snowstorm. Everyone except their leader looked ready to collapse. After fires were burning, bodies were warmed and supper was done, Harry summoned him and Rattleshirt along with the raiders.

"There are men patrolling on the Wall, tell me what you know Jon"

"There are four men in each patrol, two rangers and two builders," he said. "The builders are supposed to make note of cracks, melting, and other structural problems, while the rangers look for signs of foes. They ride mules."

"Do they all ride atop the Wall?" Harry asked frowning, not looking up.

"No. One patrol in four follows the base instead, to search for cracks in the foundation ice or signs of tunneling."

"How often do these patrols go out?"

When he looked up towards Jon his eyes were glazed over as if he was about to faint. Jon wondered if wizard can feel his human body when he was out skinchanging. He seems to know where I am standing, so maybe he can retain his senses while out of body. Black, his wolf was sitting beside the skinchanger and whoever tried to approach was met with low growls and bared fangs.

"It varies," Jon shrugged. "I've heard that Lord Commander Qorgyle used to send them out every third day from Castle Black to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and every second day from Castle Black to the Shadow Tower. The Watch had more men in his day, though. Lord Commander Mormont prefers to vary the number of patrols and the days of their departure, to make it more difficult for anyone to know their comings and goings. And sometimes the Old Bear will even send a larger force to one of the abandoned castles for a fortnight or a moon's turn."

His uncle had originated that tactic, Jon knew. Anything to make the enemy unsure. And now I am an enemy.

"If I knew where on the Wall we were heading, I could tell you."

"Jon, even Rattleshirt is not stupid enough to tell you that." Harry's eyes became normal.

Laughing along with the others Harry tried again "There are 19 castles guarding the Wall. Tell me how many of them are manned?

"Three"

"Only three? Are you lying to me Jon?"

"I won't be called a liar." Jon growled. "Only Eastwatch, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower were manned when I left the Wall. I can't speak to what might have changed since I left."

"How many men remain in Castle Black?"

"A thousand. Five hundred at Castle Black, two hundred at Shadow Tower and three hundred at Eastwatch."

"I don't believe you Snow. What color is your clock? Is it still black? Are you a free man as gods intended us to be? Or are you still a Crow?" Rattleshirt suddenly said slowly advancing on Jon.

"Jon," the Wizard warned, "I like you, but if you lie to me, I'll make your wolf eat you."

"We will reach the wall soon enough. Now leave me, all of you, I must prepare for the climb" Wizard dismissed them all. Jon left deciding to find Ygritte.

Where did Ygritte get herself to? He found her gear and his together, but no sign of the girl herself.

"She took a torch and went off that way," Someone told him, pointing toward the back of the cavern.

Jon followed the finger, and found himself in a dim back room wandering through a maze of columns and stalactites.

She can't be here, he was thinking, when he heard her laugh. He turned toward the sound, but within ten paces he was in a dead end, facing a blank wall of rose and white flowstone. Baffled, he made his way back the way he'd come, and then he saw it: a dark hole under an outthrust of wet stone. He knelt, listened, and heard the faint sound of water.

"Ygritte?"

"In here," her voice came back, echoing faintly.

Jon had to crawl a dozen paces before the cave opened up around him. When he stood again, it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Ygritte had brought a torch, but there was no other light. She stood beside a little waterfall that fell from a cleft in the rock down into a wide dark pool. The orange and yellow flames shone against the pale green water.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

She unlaced her doeskin shirt, tossed it aside, and pulled her three woolen undershirts up over her head all at once. "I want you should see me."

"We shouldn't—"

"We should." Her breasts bounced as she stood on one leg to pull one boot, and then hopped onto her other foot to attend to the other. Her nipples were wide pink circles.

"You as well," Ygritte said as she yanked down her sheepskin breeches. "If you want to look you have to show. You know nothing, Jon Snow."

"I know I want you," he heard himself say, all his vows and all his honor forgotten. She stood before him naked as her name day, and he was as hard as the rock around them. He had been in her half a hundred times by now, but always beneath the furs, with others all around them. He had never seen how beautiful she was. Her legs were skinny but well muscled, the hair at the juncture of her thighs a brighter red than that on her head. Does that make it even luckier? He pulled her close.

"I love the smell of you," he said. "I love your red hair. I love your mouth, and the way you kiss me. I love your smile. I love your teats." He kissed them, one and then the other. "I love your skinny legs, and what's between them." He knelt to kiss her there, lightly on her mound at first, but

Ygritte moved her legs apart a little, and he saw the pink inside and kissed that as well, and tasted her. She gave a little gasp.

"If you love me all so much, why you are still dressed?" she whispered. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. Noth—oh. Oh. OHHH."

Afterward, she was almost shy, or as shy as Ygritte ever got. "That thing you did," she said, when they lay together on their piled clothes. "With your . . . mouth." She hesitated. "Is that . . . is it what lords do to their ladies, down in the south?"

"I don't think so." No one had ever told Jon just what lords did with their ladies. "I only . . . wanted to kiss you there, that's all. You seemed to like it."

"Aye. I . . . I liked it some. No one taught you such?"

"There's been no one," he confessed. "Only you."

"A maid," she teased. "You were a maid."

He gave her closest nipple a playful pinch. "I was a man of the Night's Watch." Was, he heard himself say. What was he now? He did not want to look at that

The grotto was pitch-dark by the time they finished. The only light was the dim glow of the passage back up to the larger cavern, where a score of fires burned. They were soon fumbling and bumping into each other as they tried to dress in the dark. Ygritte stumbled into the pool and screeched at the cold of the water. When Jon laughed, she pulled him in too. They wrestled and splashed in the dark, and then she was in his arms again, and it turned out they were not finished after all.

"Ok that's it lovebirds, dress yourself, I have something important to tell you"

"How long were you here?" Jon asked frantically closing his britches.

"Long enough to know everything I needed to know. Now follow me." He started leading them through the cave.

"Where are we going?" Jon asked for umpteenth time. Jon was tired of holding up the torch which strangely still burned. They were following Harry for hours and wizard was unusually silent. When he spoke though, all the calm was shattered.

"We are going to warn the Nights Watch about the invasion and you both are coming with me."

"What?" both of them said as one.

"The singers make much of heroes who die valiantly in battle, but your life is worth more than a song Jon. I know what your plan is and if you go by your plan, you along with your girl will be dead before long and I can't allow that. You have a grand role to play in coming times."

"But Mance trusted you like a brother, how can you betray us like that!" Ygritte was fuming.

"It seems as if both of you know nothing. Shut up and follow me. Girl, keep your mouth shut. Snow, keep your wife off me. Finding this place is hard enough as it is. I don't need a distraction."

"Why are you helping me?" Jon could not trust him. Too much mystery and too few answers. _I really don't know anything._

The Wizard gave Jon an irritated look. "If I tell the reason, would both of you shut up?"

"If you tell the truth, yes."

"I am doing this because Mance told me to." Wizard smiled indulgently, "Why do you think that all the wildlings left their whole lives to invade the Wall? Because Mance told them that if they don't go south they will all die and that is the truth. _Winter is coming_, remember? Wildlings don't want your lands, they want safety."

"Safety from what?" Wizard's mood swings were making Jon dizzy.

"Safety from what this winter will bring it. Only the Wall can protect the Seven Kingdoms now."

Harry turned to Ygritte, "Do you really think Mance and I opened half a hundred graves and let all those shades loose in the world to find the Horn of Joramun? Mance never wanted to bring the wall dawn. We were searching for very different thing. If we had found it, none of this would have been necessary. Now I have do lot more work. I am going to convince the Night's Watch to open the gates for wildlings."

"Nights Guard will not trust you or your fantastic stories."

"You are right, they will never trust me but they will one of them." Before their disbelieving eyes wizards face started changing. His cheeks grew stubble, his eyes became blue and when he shook his head, his short hair, messy and deep black, turned to long black curls.

"_Valar Morghulis, Jon Snow"_

Last thing Jon saw before someone knocked him in ice from behind was his own face smiling at him.

A/N: I need a beta reader. My English is absolutely horrible. Someone please save me. Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	6. For the Greater Good

Disclaimer: Claiming to own an idea is as idiotic as claiming to own a person, for they are their own beings. +Standard disclaimer (I don't own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones. They belong to some very rich people)

_Day Two Hundred And One _

_What a singular moment is the first one, when you have hardly begun to recollect yourself after starting from midnight slumber! By opening your eyes so suddenly, you seem find yourself, for a single instant, wide awake in that realm of illusions, you attain perception of their strangeness, which you never attain while the dream is undisturbed. If you could choose an hour of wakefulness out of the whole night, it would be this. In your dreams you are home, with your own imaginary kin who all love you. But those moments don't last and you are left with empty heart and wrenched loneliness. Without a reason to live, without a goal to strive for, what was the meaning of your existence? That was the instance Harry finally decided to take the gift from the many faced god._

Chapter 5

**For the Greater Good**

POV

_**The Boy Who Fought**_

All his life Harry was fighting. He fought with his relatives, who didn't want him. He fought with the other boys at school, who immediately homed in on him as the butt of their cruel jokes and only after much blood had flowed from his nose and from theirs, only after many afternoons when He had to hide my scars from teachers—because it was up to him, not anyone else, to solve his problems. He did manage to show himself that I could take a thrashing without bursting into tears.

"Black, please pickup this poor fellow." Black immediately picked up Jon on his back. _He is more useful when he is giant wolf of my height, I should allow him to be his real size more often_. But as it happens, giant animals always drew more attention than Harry wanted. Cave opened up far from wall. _Hopefully all the remaining wildlings will follow my plan. _

He contemplated about the girl. _On one hand she was Jon's lover, if she is unharmed I will gain Jon favor. Though she should really stop shooting arrows at me though, it was hard to think rationally when you have to dodge arrows from a markswoman who probably thinks I am an evil wizard. Maybe I should have included my unwilling partners in whole planning process_.

"Hear out the entire plan first Ygritte."Harry even used girl's first name. He got the answer in form of two arrows shooting for his eyes. "And stop shooting me!"

_Maybe it will be less trouble to dispose the girl and convince Jon that she ran away. But I am the good guy and good guys; even jaded good guys like me should always the romantics, always believing in true love and its thousand and one variations._

Harry fought—although without success—for the girl he was in love with when he was an adolescent, and who loved him too; she left him- in the end because her parents convinced her that he was no good. His first love.

"I don't want to hurt you Ygritte, just let me explain."

He waited for her to run out of arrows. She had more than two dozen so another minute of dodging and defending Black. If he hadn't been here and had she attacked him she would have been in wolfs stomach by now.

_Girl thinks I betrayed Mance. I never once betrayed anyone in my life not even the old man who was far too focused on his ideals to know the hardship others had to undergo following him. I fought for the his ideals, went to hell, came back and went on fighting, feeling like a fucking hero—until, that is, I lost my naivety._

"Listen to me, Ygritte" he said in low drawl that Jon snow would have used. Getting the right voice of your disguise was trickiest part of infiltration for anyone. For harry it came naturally. _Thank you, Horcrux in my head_. Shooting stopped immediately.

"You don't have to come near me. I will tell you whole truth". She came out from behind the cover.

"There is great calamity coming and I am partly responsible for it. I know what you are Ygritte, Mance told me. I will help you in your goal. But all will be lost if wall is not defended. Nobody can guard it alone, not even me. I need Jon's face to convince the Nights Watch to allow wildlings inside the wall. Together they can defend against the horror that is coming. I need Jon to open the gate for us to pass. Only a man of the Night's Watch can open it, A Sworn Brother who has said his words."

And I will be free to save the Seven Kingdoms from itself. Dumbledore will be so proud of me.

Harry fought to find the courage to leave his past behind, because the love he felt for that world hadn't lasted, and he needed to move on, until he found the right reason for his existence. _I finally found my reason of existence in this world. I finally accepted your ideology old man. For the greater good. I will fight for one last time for this cause. For the greater good of this world I will win the Game of Thrones._

"What are you going to do with us? If you want to take Jon's place why do you need me? " the girl was still untrusting. _Smart girl this one, well done Jon Snow._

"Who am I to separate the two hearts that beat as one? Jon is important for my plans and you are important to him. That's why you still live despite knowing so much." Harry smiled indulgently.

"Will you seriously let both of us live? No jest?"

He started walking in the cave showing her his back._ If girl is smart enough she will not try to shoot me and will follow me and if she does try to shoot me then she will get the ultimate gift from my sword._

"Death is no jest" Harry kept on walking. Ygritte ran to catch up to now big wolf and the wizard.

"We have prepared other plans. If they all fail then only Mance will fight for your people's safety. But unfortunately Mance cannot win this war."

"He can!" she insisted. "You have never seen the free folk fight!"

Wildlings fought like heroes or demons, depending on who you talked to, but it came down to the same thing in the end. They fight with reckless courage, every man out for glory.

"I have fought your kind. You are all very brave, but when it comes to battle, discipline beats valor every time. In the end Mance will fail as all the Kings-beyond-the-Wall have failed before him. And when he does, all free folks will perish."

Ygritte had looked so angry he thought she was about to strike him. A wildling to the core this one is.

He had planned to cross wall trough the Nightfort. The Nightfort was a rather distinguished place in history books. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. This was where the Rat Cook had served the Andal king his prince-and-bacon pie, where the seventy-nine sentinels stood their watch, where brave young Danny Flint had been raped and murdered. This was the castle where King Sherrit had called down his curse on the Andals of old, where the 'prentice boys had faced the thing that came in the night, where blind Symeon Star-Eyes had seen the hellhounds fighting. Mad Axe had once walked these yards and climbed these towers, butchering his brothers in the dark.

He kept up brisk pace, and the leagues steadily disappeared. In late evening they arrived out of the underground cave and in the open snowy fields. At night they camped in a thicket near the woods and watched the moonrise before going to bed. Jon was still out cold; Harry had made sure of that.

It grew colder over the next day and a half. In order to conserve their energy in case they could not open the gate at Nightfort and will have to climb the wall Harry decided to ride Black. With Jon slung before him and Ygritte behind him, they traveled quickly and saw little of the wildlife.

A bit past noon, the Wall became visible. It was a magnificent spectacle. Harry was reminded a wall from his former world, equally as magnificent. Harry knew that both the legendary walls were not mare physical barriers. Both the Walls are more than just ice and stone. There are spells woven into it . . . old ones, and strong. Soulless things cannot pass beyond this Wall. Harry wondered if beings with half souls can pass. Even material things had their own souls. The others were the only things without the souls.

The Black Gate, books had called it, but it wasn't black at all. A glow came from the wood, like milk and moonlight, so faint it scarcely seemed to touch anything beyond the door itself, not even Sam standing right before it. The face was old and pale, wrinkled and shrunken. It looks dead. Its mouth was closed, and its eyes; its cheeks were sunken, its brow withered, its chin sagging. If a man could live for a thousand years and never die but just grow older, his face might come to look like that.

Harry was prepared for that. Crossing the wall was no easy feat. Climbing was most simple but also most dangerous. The Black Gate opened only for a brother of the Watch. Harry effortlessly slipped inside Jon's unconscious mind. Strong minds but unaware, were easy to take control of.

Jon approached the Wooden Gate.

The door opened its eyes. They were white too, and blind. "Who are you?" the door asked.

"I am the sword in the darkness," Came out of Jon's mouth. "I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

"Then pass," the door said.

…

A/N: Next one coming very soon and it will be a proper chapter size with action and all the usual drama. Sorry for butchering up the English. If anyone is offended by grammar please offer me a beta.


	7. For the Greater Good Part 2

Disclaimer: Slot in the standard disclaimer here.

_**My Freedom**_

_By Harry Potter_

I've spent a large part of my life enslaved to one thing or another, so I should know the meaning of the word. Ever since I was a child, I have fought to make freedom my most precious commodity.

Here in this world where my powers are limited and I was practically illiterate at start, I fought against the hostile world of free cities where my first owner kept me around for satisfying his wife's carnal desires and only deigned to take any notice of me when I started tearing up his lady's guts: he looked at me in surprise and saw that here was someone capable of persevering and confronting the enemy, someone who was no longer bound to the past of good deeds and selfless heroism. While I was fighting, I heard other people speaking in the name of freedom, and the more they defended this unique right, the more enslaved they seemed to be to their own ideals. Slaves to luxury, to the appearance of luxury, to the appearance of the appearance of luxury. Slaves to a life they had not chosen, but which they had decided to live because someone had managed to convince them that it was all for the best. And so their identical days and nights passed, days and nights in which adventure was just a something that others do, and whenever a door opened on a change or an adventure, they would say: "I'm not interested."

How could they possibly know if they were interested or not if they had never tried? But there was no point in asking; the truth was they were afraid of any change that would upset the world they had grown used to.

I'm free now and I will never want to go back to old life, because freedom continues to be the thing I prize most in the world. Of course, this has led me to drink wines I did not like, to do things I should not have done and which I will not do again; it has left scars on my body and on my soul, it has meant hurting certain people. Then only I realized that I could do absolutely anything except force another person to follow me in my madness, in my lust for bravery. I don't regret the painful times; I bear my scars as if they were medals. I know that freedom has a high price, as high as that of slavery; the only difference is that you pay with pleasure and a smile, even when that smile is dimmed by tears.

_**What's happening in rest of the World**_

_Samwell Tarly, _

Sam and Gilly are coming towards the Night's Fort. Sam knows about the Black Gate that Harry used.

_Mance Rayder, King-beyond-the-Wall, _

Mance and the wildling army are following the Milkwater, a river north of the Wall. They have passed Fist of the First Men where the Others attacked the ranging party of the Night's.

_Stannis Baratheon, the King in the Narrow Sea,_

King Stannis, Lady Melisandre of Asshai and their bannermen are coming to the Wall to grant help to the Night's Watch as was requested by maester Aemon to all the five kings of Seven Kingdoms

_Tyrion Lannister,_

The Imp is welcoming the Prince Oberyn of Dorne to King's Landing.

_Jaime Lannister,_

The Kingslayer and Brienne of Tarth are in custody of Lord Bolton in Harrenhal.

_Arya Stark,_

Captured by The Brotherhood without Banners.

_Robb Stark, the King of the North,_

Going to the Red Wedding with his lady mother.

_Daenerys Targaryen, the Queen across the Water,_

Claiming a slave army.

_**Previously in Valar Morghulis**_

"_I am the sword in the darkness," Came out of Jon's mouth. "I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men."_

"_Then pass," the door said._

Chapter 6

**For the Greater Good**

POV

_**The Boy Who Fought**_

Its lips opened, wide and wider and wider still, until nothing at all remained but a great gaping mouth in a ring of wrinkles. Jon stepped aside and abruptly crumbled in a heap. Harry motioned Black to lift Jon again.

"Follow carefully. Don't touch anything." Ygritte nodded.

The gate opened up at the bottom of a well. It was a good twelve feet across, all stone, with steps built into its side, circling down and down into darkness. The walls were damp and covered with niter. Water came up to their ankles. The top of the well was no bigger than a half-moon, but it grew larger and brighter every time they went around the round steps. Their footsteps echoed off the damp stones, and the water sounds grew fainter.

There were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Harry could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest. But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.

The Books had been right: There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort. Harry could feel them in his bones.

Harry wanted to reach south of wall before Rattleshirt and the wildling party attacked it from south. Harry had forced rapid pace on themselves to accomplish it. He wished he could still do the real magic, the magic from his world. Then all he had to do was Imperius Curse on Jon to make him follow his plan. But to cast spells, he needed a wand.

In his travels he found out about an extinct magical race. Months of researching and traveling had been useless. He searched from old Valyria to far north where time itself was frozen. He even went to citadel to ask the maesters but all his efforts were in vain. He didn't find wand or staff or any magic focal device. All the magic in this world was either single ability based like seer or skinchanger or ritualistic. So instead of letting go of magic entirely he learned all he could about magic in this world. He learned blood and sacrifice rituals from a priestess. He learned skinchanging from best skinchanger in known world.

"You should let Jon in on your plan. I am sure He will understand your reasons. He may decide to help you." Ygritte said sitting down in the Fort's kitchen.

_She makes sense_, Harry thought. Jon Snow was not unintelligent man. He could be persuaded if given right reasons. Saving all humanity was almost always the right reason. When Harry had made plans for the Wall, he had not factored in Jon Snow. It was a lucky happenstance. He had planned to infiltrate Nights Watch to convince them to let wildlings in or if that failed, then sabotage the defense of wall. But Jon provided much more elegant option. If he could convince Jon to his side then no infiltration was required. Jon was well known person in the brotherhood, he was perfect for the job.

"Give him this potion," He handed a vial from his pockets to Ygritte "we will see if he can be reasoned with."

Harry knew he cannot force Ygritte and Jon to follow him in his plans, that will be against everything he stood for but their cooperation was instrumental to his plans for the North and its future. Harry knew story of the Night's king who ruled from this castle. The king who enslaved the Night's Watch to serve him and his sorceress queen. He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night's Watch, a warrior who knew no fear. And that was the fault in him, for all men must know fear. A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well. He brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king, and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will. For thirteen years they had ruled, Night's King and his corpse queen, till finally the Stark of Winterfell and Joramun of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage. After his fall, when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others, all records of Night's King had been destroyed, his very name forbidden.

Jon came about in short time. Harry was still wearing Jon's face. Advanced identity illusions were hard to do and much harder to undo.

"I am giving you a chance to prove your intelligence, so speak with your brain and not your instinct. I told you about my plan of letting Wildlings in. I also told you about the Others. They are here and in more number than ever. This wall was not build to keep Wildlings out; it was build to keep the Others out. You swore an oath, that oath clearly state that you will protect all men. Wildlings are men too. They have the right to survive. Is it so wrong to give them a chance?"

By the end of Harry's speech Jon was fully awake.

"Wildlings have no lows, they don't follow rules, and they don't have discipline to form a society." Jon refused to look at Ygritte as he spoke.

"Lows and discipline can be enforced. If you help me then I assure you, they will come peacefully. They are not invading; they are just looking for protection." Harry argued.

"And who will enforce it? They are free folks; they will never abide by the laws of Seven Kingdoms."

"I don't care about the lows of Seven Kingdoms. But they can live in civilized manners, they are not animals Jon. You should have realized that by now."

"They are my people Jon. Please listen to him. We can prevent this war. You can't let all of them die out there."

Jon remained unconvinced. "If they are not bound by laws so what's stopping them from looting people here. Thousands of people with no income are disaster waiting to happen."

"You are a brother of the King of North, aren't you? Maybe you can convince him to give this people land directly south of wall. Nobody is there anyway."

"These lands are property of Night's Watch; they are not Robb's to give away. The Lord Commander is official Lord of both the Gifts, New and Brandon's."

"So your commander has full authority of the land? Then all you have to do is to convince this commander of yours. Who is it?"

"Jeor Mormont is Commander of the Night's Watch, He is a good man."

"So you know him?"

"I was his squire before this ranging."

"So, will you help me Jon Snow? If you do, you will save countless life and prevent a needless war."Harry knew he had convinced him when Jon didn't reply.

Harry and Jon planned the whole thing. Ygritte providing quite a lot of input. As all of them were not in know of what was happening at wall presently, they kept their planning quite flexible. It was decided that Jon will be one to carry out the main plan. living the life of betrayals and half truth had made Harry a good judge of characters and he certainly classified Jon's character as Loyal and Honorable sort.

"You must convince commander to parley with Mance, Jon."

"And how can I do that?" Jon asked hesitantly.

"Tell him that Mance has found The Horn of Joramun and he means to bring the wall down," Harry said, "tell him he has a wizard with him who can perform the ritual of the undoing. Also tell him about the Others."

Jon Snow was visibly surprised. "So Lord Commanders was right, King-beyond-the-Wall was looking for something Magical in Frozen Mountains."

"And we found it."Harry lied easily. They never found The Joramun's Horn but nobody needed to know their failure to find it. Horn's name inspired fear in the Night's Watch brother and that was more than sufficient for him.

"What of you? Are you coming with me to castle black? To keep an eye on me?"Jon asked.

"No. Ygritte and I will not be coming with you. You will be hard pressed to convince your loyalty as it is."

"Where will you go? You can't stay here."

"Ygritte will go to Mance to tell him of changed plan. And I will be on my way."

"Way to where, Wizard?" Ygritte asked.

"Don't you both worry about that. Just do your parts." Harry focused on Jon. "I heard your father was very honorable man Jon Snow. I hope you will do him proud by saving all these innocents lives."

"We all will leave at daybreak," Harry said standing up from his position on the kitchen floor. "Rattleshirt and raiders will climb wall tomorrow at earliest. Both of should take rest and say your goodbyes, for if this plan fails, you may not get chance to."

When Ygritte and Jon woke up next morning, the Wizard and his wolf were gone.

A/N: My standard apology about horrible grammar. If anyone is interested in Betaing this story please PM me.


	8. Champion

A/N: Heavy spoilers coming up.

_**Day Three Hundred And One **_

You know what makes humans special when compared to animals?" asked the kindly man.

"What?" asked Harry.

"The fact that we work together. We collaborate to achieve combined goals. We pass on knowledge to each other, so every generation begins its journey from the shoulders of the previous generation and not from scratch."

"I agree. But we are not the only ones who work in a pack. Other animals, like the wolves or lions, do it as well. But nobody does it on the scale that we do."

"Yes, that's true. But it's not always about collaboration. It is sometimes about competition as well. It's not always about peace. Many times, it's also about war."

Harry nodded.

"So the key point is that we humans are nothing individually," said the kindly man. "Our power flows from all of us. From the way all of us live together."

"Yes," agreed Harry. "And if we have to live together, we must have a way of life, right?"

"Yes. Some method for all of us to collaborate or compete with each other." "Most people believe there are many hundred ways of life in the world," said the kindly man. "Every religion thinks that it is unique in some way." Harry nodded in agreement. "But if you actually distil the way people live, there is only one way: The way of Death."

"I am fond of you, Harry of Hogwarts; but if you betray our way of life I will make sure to bring you the gift of the Many-Faced God most swiftly."

_**Previously in Valar Morghulis**_

"We all will leave at daybreak," Harry said standing up from his position on the kitchen floor. "Rattleshirt and raiders will climb wall tomorrow at earliest. Both of should take rest and say your goodbyes, for if this plan fails, you may not get chance to."

When Ygritte and Jon woke up next morning, the Wizard and his wolf were gone.

Chapter 6

**Champion**

POV

_**Harry**_

The sun was rapidly descending into the horizon, the twilit sky vibrant ochre. He was standing on a small hill, enjoying the evening breeze. The view was stunning. The gentle slope of the grassy hill descended into a sparsely forested plain, which ended in a sheer cliff at a far distance. The sun setting gently beyond the horizon completed the dramatic beauty of the tranquil moment.

Harry heard the soft footfalls. He immediately drew his sword. And started sprinting towards his wolf, who was pursuing an armed man. The man, showing surprising agility, was effortlessly navigating between the trees and undulating ground of the hillside, picking up pace. Harry remembered battling with a faceless man in the haunted forest beyond the Wall, when he had met Black for the first time.

"Black!" screamed Harry, as he rapidly drew his sword and started sprinting towards his wolf.

_He'll run into a trap! _

"Stop!" yelled Harry, picking up his pace as he saw his dash into a cluster of trees alongside the road. Black was totally focused on chasing a retreating hooded figure, in his true body, like a seasoned warrior with his prey in sight. It took a few moments for Harry to catch up with Black, to ascertain that he was safe. As they continued to give chase, Harry's focus shifted to the Man. He was shocked. How did that man find him so far in wolfswood? He took every precaution to be discreet in his rapid travel to the south.

The man, showing surprising agility, was effortlessly navigating between the trees and undulating ground of the hillside, picking up pace. Black was keeping pace to his left. He suddenly made a grunting sound and pointed to the right, to a fork in the path that was coming up. Harry nodded. They would split up and try to cut off the Man from opposite ends on the narrow ridge ahead. Harry dashed to his right with a renewed burst of speed, sword at the ready. Black stayed his course behind the Man, running equally hard. The ground beneath Harry's feet on the new path had evened out and he managed to cover the distance rapidly. He noticed that the Man had pulled his shield into his right hand. The wrong hand for defense. Harry frowned. Quickly coming up to the Man's right, with Black still some distance away, Harry reached with his left hand, drew a knife and flung it at the Man's neck. A stunned Harry then saw a magnificent maneuver that he hadn't imagined possible without Magic. Without turning to look at the knife or even breaking a step, the Man pulled his shield forward in the path of the knife. With the knife safely bouncing off the shield, the Man effortlessly let the shield clip on to his back, maintaining his pace. _He blocked the knife without even looking at it! So have they finally sent a properly trained man to kill me?_

Black meanwhile had maintained his pace, edging closer to the Man as Harry ran in from the other trail onto the path that the Man was on. Seeing Black cross the narrow ridge, Harry picked up speed, closing in on his wolf. Because of the steep angle of the sloping ridge, he could see the Man further ahead, reaching a wall at the bottom of the hill. The wall protected an abandoned castle at the base from animal attacks and trespassers. The height of the wall gave Harry hope. There was no way the Man could jump over it. He would have to climb, giving Black and him the crucial seconds needed to catch up and mount an attack.

The Man came to the same realization as well. As he neared the wall, he pirouetted on his heels, hands reaching to his sides, drawing out two swords. The sword in his right hand was a traditional long sword, glinting in the evening sun. The one in his left, a short sword with a strange double blade mounted on a central pivot at the hilt. Harry pulled his shield forward as he neared the Man. Black attacked the Man from his right.

The Man swung the long sword hard, forcing Black to step back. With Black on the back foot, the Man swerved with his left hand, making Harry duck to avoid a strike. As the Man's sword swept safely away, Harry jumped high and struck down from his height, a blow almost impossible to defend if the opponent is not holding a shield. The Man, however, effortlessly stepped back, avoiding the strike, while thrusting forward with his short sword, putting Harry on the back foot. The Wizard had to quickly swing his shield up to deflect the blow.

Harry and Black were yet to get a single strike on the Man, but he was progressively being forced to retreat. It was a matter of time before he would be pinned against the wall. And then, the Man swung ferociously with his left hand. The sword was too short to reach Harry and it appeared to be a wasted maneuver. Harry pushed forward, confident he would strike the Man on his torso. But the Man swung back, this time his thumb pressing a lever on the pivot of the short sword. One of the twin blades suddenly extended beyond the length of the other, doubling the reach of the sword. The blade cut Harry on his shoulder. Its poisoned edge sent a jolt of electricity through his body, temporarily immobilizing him. But Harry was schooled in same disciplines as the man. Swift assassination was Harry's area of specialty. Black charged from the right towards the hooded figure, grabbing his leg viciously. The hooded figure fell but not before stabbing deep through the eye of the wolf mauling his leg. Harry jumped once again on the hooded figure. He struck his sword brutally through the man's chest, deep into his heart. The faceless man fell on Black, dead.

Harry walked up to the dead man, "Forgive me brother but I can't accept your gift today."

Aftermath of fight saw Harry travelling parallel to the Kings Road rapidly. Black now back to his regular size and with both eyes working again was slightly miffed with Harry for foul tasting potion he was made to drink.

"Be glad that it was only an eye. Had his sword reached your brain even I could not have saved you." Harry said petting Black. "You should have come to get me when you smelled him instead of chasing him. He ran only because he never had seen wolf your size before. Had he fought you before I caught up to you would have been dead within moments."

Harry was not truly unhappy with Black but his wolf was too much like old him, always rushing in situations before thinking it through. Black merely sniffed once and wondered away in woods. That was all right by Harry as a village was coming and Harry needed a bath and some wine. It had been too long since he ate properly cooked food. Pace Harry had forced upon themselves didn't really left much time to such trivialities. The ridge slanted sharply from the earth. And below him the he could see and smell a settlement.

################################################## ###################################

The king is dead, they told him.

"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger," a man declared at the roadside inn where Harry spent the night. "He drank his blood from a big gold chalice."

"It was poison did the deed," the innkeeper insisted. "The boy's face turned black as a plum."

"May the Father judge him justly," murmured another man.

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore a portly man nursing a cup of wine. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."

Harry had taken resident at an inn on Kings Road near the twins. It was there he had learned of the Red wedding and other recent events of seven kingdoms. Harry thought of Jon Snow, now a brotherless orphan. And another king is dead. Killed by his own uncle at Royal wedding, leaving Lady Margaery of house Tyrell as widow again. The dwarf must be incredibly stupid and brave to kill the cruel king.

After what had befallen Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark, there was almost peace in Seven Kingdoms. There was still fighting in the riverlands, but everywhere the coils were tightening. Ser Gregor Clegane had crossed the Trident and seized the ruby ford, then captured Harrenhal almost effortlessly. Seagard had yielded to Black Walder Frey, Lord Randyll Tarly held Maidenpool, Duskendale, and the kingsroad. In the west, Ser Daven Lannister had linked up with Ser Forley Prester at the Golden Tooth for a march on Riverrun. Ser Ryman Frey was leading two thousand spears down from the Twins to join them. And Paxter Redwyne claimed his fleet would soon set sail from the Arbor, to begin the long voyage around Dorne and through the Stepstones. Stannis's Lyseni pirates would be outnumbered ten to one. The struggle that the maesters were calling the War of the Five Kings was all but at an end. _It was time to make an entrance in the Game of thrones_.

################################################## ###################################

_**POV**_

_**Tyrion Lannister**_

Alone in his tower cell with a blank parchment and a cup of wine, Tyrion found himself thinking of the trial. Second day has gone terrible. Judges were already convinced of his guilt, he had no witnesses, Lords and ladies and noble knights, highborn and humble alike, they had all been present at the wedding feast, had all seen Joffrey choke, his face turning as black as a Dornish plum. Lord Redwyne, Lord Celtigar, and Ser Flement Brax had heard Tyrion threaten the king; two serving men, a juggler, Lord Gyles, Ser Hobber Redwyne, and Ser Philip Foote had observed him fill the wedding chalice; Lady Merryweather swore that she had seen the dwarf drop something into the king's wine while Joffrey and Margaery were cutting the pie; old Estermont, young Peckledon, the singer Galyeon of Cuy, and the squires Morros and Jothos Slynt told how Tyrion had picked up the chalice as Joff was dying and poured out the last of the poisoned wine onto the floor. Trial by combat the only possible defense left to him. It had worked once, why not again? But Bronn had refused to help him.

He was not surprised by Bronn's decision of not helping him. He's always been an insolent black-hearted rogue. That's what Tyrion liked about him. Tyrion poured himself another cup of wine and took it to the window seat. Outside the day was grey and rainy, but the prospect was still more cheerful than his. Going up against Ser Gregor Clegane in his own person would be a bigger farce than Joffrey's jousting dwarfs. He did not intend to die with gales of laughter ringing in his ears. So much for trial by combat.

Later, when Ser Kevan paid his nightly visit, Tyrion asked for Varys.

"You believe the eunuch will speak in your defense?"

"I won't know until I have talked with him. Send him here, Uncle, if you would be so good."

"As you wish."

Late in night, as he sat by his window drinking, he heard voices outside his door. The eunuch came he thought at once, but it was not master of whisperers was not alone. A hooded figure was with him.

"I could not come by day. The queen had me watched." Lord Varys whispered.

"You're here now."

"Am I? Ah." Varys giggled.

"Varys, do you think I deed it?"

The eunuch sighed. "It does not matter what I think. I am here to help you my lord."

Tyrion snorted. "Help?" He rubbed at his nose. "Tell me, where is Shae? And my _innocent _maiden wife?"

"Shae was taken in custody by the Queen herself and I have found no trace of your wife in King's Landing sad to say. Lady Sansa was seen on the serpentine steps the night she vanished. After that, nothing. There was much confusion that night. My little birds are silent."

"How can you help me now? Perhaps you will champion me in trial by combat."

"I am not a fighter my lord but this man is and he is the best fighter in the known world." Varys said nodding towards the hooded man.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"My little birds told me. Knowing is their purpose, and mine."

Tyrion turned to the man. "Who in right mind will represent me? My sister will not forgive whoever helps me. You don't look much and that's compared to me," the dwarf said dryly. His mismatched eyes considered the man briefly.

"Men are seldom as they appear. You look so very guilty that I am convinced of your innocence. Still, you will likely be condemned. But I can save you." The man said looking in Dwarf's eyes.

"Ser Gregor Clegane is my sister's champion. He is almost eight feet tall and must weigh thirty stone, all of it muscle. He fights with a two-handed greatsword, but needs only one hand to wield it. He has been known to cut men double your size in half with a single blow. His armor is so heavy that no lesser man could bear the weight, let alone move in it.""

"And now tell me how could you save me?"

"By killing him in combat of course. You do not need to worry about the combat. I have faced much more skillful and big men, I am still alive and they are not."

"What is your price? What is that Varys has promised you?

"I do not pursue gold. I shall name my price after the trial. I have heard that a Lannister always pays his debts."

"Do you realize that you can die as well?"

"Valar morghulis little man. All men must die. But tomorrow is not the day I die."

A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Please ignore the terrible English. All readers wallow in misery on the printed page, but they never know that in real life, dull and uneventful as it is, what the pain and loss could really mean. Please do not take happiness and peace you all enjoy regularly as granted.


	9. Mortal Combat

_A/N: Little feedback reviews will be nice. You can use these templates-"You suck", "more plot plz", "characters are one dimensional", "too confusing", "kill yourself", "you copied paragraphs from canon", "all characters sound same", "events are happening too fast" etc. _

_**Excerpts from diary of a Guild follower**_

_He possesses every quality requisite for success in the disturbed age in which we live; cautious and wily in council, he is fierce and daring in action; he possesses an endurance that makes him remarkable even amongst his hardy fellow men, and an energy and decision that will in any kingdom have raise him to distinctions. He is always prompt in taking advantage of the enemy's vacillation, and in falling upon them unawares. He never shirks from entering upon desperate attempts with utmost vigor and courage. He has no fear of mortification of disgraceful defeat. His matchless swordplay is preserved and regarded with nothing short of idolatrous veneration by the entire Guild._

_**Previously in Valar Morghulis**_

"I do not pursue gold. I shall name my price after the trial. I have heard that a Lannister always pays his debts."

"Do you realize that you can die as well?"

"Valar morghulis little man. All men must die. But tomorrow is not the day I die."

Chapter 8

**Mortal Combat**

POV

_**Harry**_

_**Two Days before the Trial**_

If King's Landing mourned its dead boy king, Harry would never have known it. On the Street of Seeds a begging brother in threadbare robes was praying loudly for Joffrey's soul, but the passersby paid him no more heed than they would a loose shutter banging in the wind. Elsewhere milled the usual crowds; gold cloaks in their black mail, bakers' boys selling tarts and breads and hot pies, whores leaning out of windows with their bodices half unlaced, gutters redolent of nightsoil. They passed five men trying to drag a dead horse from the mouth of an alley, and elsewhere a juggler spinning knives through the air to delight a throng of drunken Tyrell soldiers and small children. Harry had no trouble renting a room in an inn.

At midnight there was a soft knock on the door.

"Enter."

The man who stepped through the door was plump, perfumed, powdered, and as hairless as an egg. He wore a vest of woven gold thread over a loose gown of purple silk, and on his feet were pointed slippers of soft velvet.

"Welcome to King's Landing, old friend."

"How could you know that I was in town? I took every precaution to avoid your little spies"

"Some things best left for mystery," Varys said, smiling. "But you know all about mysteries, no?"

"Get to the point Varys."

He shrugged. "It is time to begin, yes? If we do not start soon, it may be too late," the portly man continued "This game no longer follows my rules, if ever it was. But an opportunity has aroused. We can earn an invaluable ally and start our plan in one motion."

"Who?" asked Harry.

"The Imp, Tyrion Lannister."

POV

_**Tyrion**_

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?"

"Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had." He turned to face the hall, that sea of pale faces. "I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle."

"Have you taken leave of your wits?" his father said.

"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!"

His sweet sister could not have been more pleased. "He has that right, my lords," she reminded the judges. "Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service."

Lord Tywin's face was so dark that for half a heartbeat Tyrion wondered if he'd drunk some poisoned wine as well. He slammed his fist down on the table, too angry to speak. It was Mace Tyrell who turned to Tyrion and asked the question. "Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?"

"He does, my lord." A voice emerged from attending group of knights. "Lord Tyrion has contracted me to fight for his honor."

The uproar was deafening. Tyrion glimpsed pleasure flash in Cersei's eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. By then Lord Tywin Lannister had recovered himself. "Let the issue be decided on the morrow," he declared in iron tones. "I wash my hands of it." He gave his dwarf son a cold angry look, then strode from the hall, out the king's door behind the Iron Throne, his brother Kevan at his side.

Later, back in his tower cell, Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine and sent Podrick Payne off for cheese, bread, and olives. He doubted whether he could keep down anything heavier just now. _Did you think I would go meekly, Father?_ He asked the shadow his candles etched upon the wall_. I have too much of you in me for that._ He felt strangely at peace, now that he had snatched the power of life and death from his father's hands and placed it in the hands of the gods. Assuming there are gods, and they give a mummer's fart. _If not, then I'm in a stranger's hand_.

_Will you come to see the end, Shae? Will you stand there with the rest, watching as Ser Ilyn lops my ugly head off? Will you miss your giant of Lannister when he's dead_? He drained his wine, flung the cup aside, and sang lustily.

_He rode through the streets of the city,_

_Down from his hill on high,_

_O'er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,_

_He rode to a woman's sigh. _

_For she was his secret treasure, _

_She was his shame and his bliss._

_And a chain and a keep are nothing,_

_Compared to a woman's kiss._

He poured another cup of wine. A pity he'd had Symon Silver Tongue killed before learning all the words of that song. It wasn't a bad song, if truth be told. Especially compared to the ones that would be written about him henceforth. "For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm," he sang. Perhaps he should write the other verses himself. If he lived so long.

_**Final day of the Trial of the Imp**_

That night, surprisingly, Tyrion Lannister slept long and deep. He rose at first light, well rested and with a hearty appetite, and broke his fast on fried bread, blood sausage, applecakes, and a double helping of eggs cooked with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.

_It is bloody cold on the Wall, but at least I would be shut of Cersei._ He did not think he would make much of a ranger, but the Night's Watch needed clever men as well as strong ones. Lord Commander Mormont had said as much, when Tyrion had visited Castle Black. There are those inconvenient vows, though. It would mean the end of his marriage and whatever claim he might ever have made for Casterly Rock, but he did not seem destined to enjoy either in any case. And he seemed to recall that there was a brothel in a nearby village. It was not a life he'd ever dreamed of, but it was life. And all he had to do to earn it was trust in his father, stand up on his little stunted legs, and say, "Yes, I did it, I confess." That was the part that tied his bowels in knots. He almost wished he had done it, since it seemed he must suffer for it anyway.

"My lord?" said Podrick Payne. "They're here, my lord. Ser Addam. And the gold cloaks."

"Pod, tell me true . . . do you think I did it?"

The boy hesitated. When he tried to speak, all he managed to produce was a weak sputter.

I am doomed. Tyrion sighed. "No need to answer. You've been a good squire to me. Better than I deserved. Whatever happens, I thank you for your service."

Ser Addam Marbrand waited at the door with six gold cloaks. He had nothing to say this morning, it seemed. Another good man who thinks me a kinslayer. Tyrion summoned all the dignity he could find and waddled down the steps. He could feel them all watching him as he crossed the yard; the guards on the walls, the grooms by the stables, the scullions and washerwomen and serving girls. Tyrion found the Wizard waiting for him. He was attended by two pretty maids. _Curtsy of the eunuch no doubt._

"Good morning, my lord," the wizard said.

"Where is your armor? And are you going to fight him with a shortsword?"

"I don't need armor. Too heavy and this is the sharpest blade in the entire known world. No other sword or knife or ax can match the keenness of its edge, not even Valyrian steel. It is the ultimate sword. You'll not find its equal anywhere." Wizard spoke with his strange unfamiliar accent.

"This arrogance could get you killed. Worse, it could get me killed."

The Wizard laughed softly. "The gods defend the innocent. You are innocent, are you not?"

"Only of killing Joffrey," Tyrion admitted. "I do hope you know what you are about to face. Gregor Clegane is—"

"—large? So I have been told many times. I give you my word; I will do all I can to save you and myself. Have faith." Tyrion kept quiet, his eyes mirroring the foreboding he felt inside. He liked the man's spirit. But he had to know his ability in a dual. For spirit without ability usually led to a gruesome death on the battlefield. Tyrion longed to ask more questions, but Wizard merely said, "The Mad Dog is no problem for me. What is going to happen after I kill him is more bothersome."

The outer ward had been chosen for the combat. Tyrion had to skip and run to keep up with The Wizard's long strides. The day was grey and windy. The sun was struggling to break through the clouds, but Tyrion could no more have said who was going to win that fight than the one on which his life depended.

It looked as though a thousand people had come to see if he would live or die. They lined the castle wallwalks and elbowed one another on the steps of keeps and towers. They watched from the stable doors, from windows and bridges, from balconies and roofs. And the yard was packed with them, so many that the gold cloaks and the knights of the Kingsguard had to shove them back to make enough room for the fight. Some had dragged out chairs to watch more comfortably, while others perched on barrels. We should have done this in the Dragonpit, Tyrion thought sourly. We could have charged a penny a head and paid for Joffrey's wedding and funeral both. Some of the onlookers even had small children sitting on their shoulders, to get a better view. They shouted and pointed at the sight of Tyrion.

Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor. In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Beneath a long yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat- topped greathelm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist.

He looks as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip. Ser Gregor Clegane did seem to have taken every precaution to protect his person. If he was he was over -confident in his success in dispatching Harry during the battle, he didn't show it.

Tyrion started to have doubts, now that they stood on the brink. When he looked at the Wizard, he found himself wishing he had Bronn defending him . . . or even better, Jaime. At roughly six feet tall, he was tiny compared to the mountain that walked. He had deep green eyes, his ragged black hair hung low over his forehead. His age was impossible for Tyrion to guess. The wizard was armorless; clad in a rough leather vest, though he wore a helm. A sheathed sword protruded at an angle from under the belt of his britches. Numerous scars, thin and white, marked his tanned skin, like scratches on a well-used table.

Despite his features, there was no doubt that Harry was a warrior, given the hard, sinewy muscles of his arms and chest and the coiled power of his stride as he sauntered down the outer ward.

_Dance around him until he's so tired he can hardly lift his arm. _The Wizard seemed to have the same notion as Bronn. But the sellsword had been blunt about the risks of such tactics_. I hope to seven hells that you know what you are doing, boy._

A platform had been erected beside the Tower of the Hand, halfway between the two champions. That was where Lord Tywin sat with his brother Ser Kevan and Prince Oberyn of Dorne. King Tommen was not in evidence; for that, at least, Tyrion was grateful.

Lord Tywin glanced briefly at his dwarf son, and then lifted his hand. A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to quiet the crowd. The High Septon shuffled forward in his tall crystal crown, and prayed that the Father Above would help them in this judgment, and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause was just. That would be me, Tyrion almost shouted, but they would only laugh, and he was sick unto death of laughter.

Ser Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Tyrion saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. This morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. _Very pious of you, Cersei, but I doubt the gods will be impressed._

There were fifty yards between them. The Wizard kept still as Ser Gregor moved ominously forward. The ground does not shake when he walks, Tyrion told himself. That is only my heart fluttering.

Clegane moved slowly, waiting for Harry to charge. But both men kept waiting for another to charge. Tyrion realized that the dog was assessing his young opponent, not knowing the combat abilities of opponent and slightly surprised by lack of armor. Harry's lack of height prevented a high arm assault that would be required to attack a taller man like Clegane. It seemed to be a fight between a giant and a pigmy. Ser Gregor Clegane with his gigantic figure was a hero of a hundred victories. Harry was a small and slender young man of 30 years his junior in no way a match for the strong, vicious and cruel Ser Gregor Clegane. Ser Gregor Clegane was the first to take the offensive.

He sprang to his feet and drove at Harry, the longsword in his hands. Harry jumped back, parrying, but he followed, pressing the attack. It was an orthodox assault. It was an attack unlike any Harry had experienced. He struck only from above, keeping his shield upfront at medium height. Harry had to keep stepping back, holding his shield high with his left hand to defend against the inhumanly powerful blows. If he could get an opening, he would have struck Clegane's exposed head and shoulder. But he couldn't as Clegane kept jabbing back at his chest. Harry kept parrying the blows with his shield. Slowly, but surely, Clegane kept pushing Harry back towards the edge of the yard. It was a matter of time before he would have no place to retreat. Tyrion, while worried at what he thought was the Wizard's retreat, also observed that Harry was comfortably parrying Clegane's heavy blows. The wizard started to move sideways as he was kept on defensive.

It went on that way for what seemed a long time. Back and forth they moved across the yard, and round and round in spirals. Ser Gregor dealt every blow more powerfully than last, his face alight with bloodlust. He was proud of his strength. He was fully convinced that he could easily overpower the young man. Clegane with a giant's strength was impatient to end the battle by killing the small and slender youth. But Tyrion could tell that he was tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other's defenses. Crowd was getting impatient for the blood and Harry's defensive approach was most unglamorous. All around the yard, the throng of spectators was creeping in toward the two combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The Kingsguard tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their big white shields, but there were hundreds of gawkers and only six of the men in white armor.

He charged at Harry again. To everyone's surprise, Harry stepped to the side, letting Clegane move forward with his momentum. Then Harry turned and charged as an aggressor. He swung to the left, letting his shield come down, leaving his flank open. Ser Gregor pushed his sword forward. Harry turned right to avoid the blow and in the same motion rolled his right arm in a swing, letting the momentum carry the sword higher than his regular strikes normally have gone. Suddenly the Harry was close enough to strike, his sword flashing in a blur. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The crowd was screaming. He struck Clegane on his neck. An instant kill strike, if it had been a normal man and not a man-giant. Ser Gregor Clegane stood stunned, blood flowing from his half severed neck freely. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back.

Tyrion's face broke into a wide smile_. How had the Wizard managed to do that?_ Harry had given up being defensive, turned into an aggressor, and won in one stroke.

"He killed the Mountain!" shouted one of the guards, and cries of disbelief and outrage spread among the men.

A/N: I can't write awesome Harry, I am sorry. Please review.


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